


When Shadows Pass Gigantic on the Sands

by windfallswest



Series: Woods and Waters Wild [16]
Category: Belgariad/Malloreon Series - David & Leigh Eddings, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Trek, YuYu Hakusho
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2010-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some secrets will keep forever, unless you shove them out an airlock.</p><p><i>Heart of Darkness</i>: late 3514</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Shadows Pass Gigantic on the Sands

**Author's Note:**

> The relevant information: It's in SPACE! Follows _How the Dead Men Wake_.

  
A hearty clunk brought Oz's head up. It was followed by an unfamiliarly irritable string of curses. There was another clank, a bright dinging and a click. Any further sounds were subsumed by the perpetual mess of small noises which surrounded the engine's operation.

Yusuke was grumpy. Prior experience didn't give Oz enough to judge his normal state, but there was an undeniable crackling surliness in the atmosphere. Oz, who sat back and watched, could see that he wasn't fitting in. Given, there was Jervis, and then that incident on Hyde with the pick-up. But he'd still pegged Yusuke as a shoe-in for the Brotherhood of Unspoken Strangeness.

Oz raised his voice. "How's things goin'?"

"Damn peachy," the reply came drifting over.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Yusuke might've grunted; it was hard to be sure. "What's there to talk about? Just forty-odd more types of wrench than I'd consider necessary. What the _hell?_ "

"What is it?" Oz walked to where Yusuke's two bottom thirds were sticking out from under the Skee manifold. "Move over," said Oz, shimmying into position. He delivered an inquiring look to Yusuke, who shot him an annoyed glance but still reached an arm up to finger the offending twist of metal.

Oz nodded even though Yusuke wasn't watching him. "Wrench don't work on that one. Self-sealing stembolt. You just kind of..." Oz stuck his own hand up by Yusuke's and gave the bolt a little press-and-twist, accidental brush of shoulders bringing other points of contact along their sides to his attention. Oz tapped the bolt back into place.

"Watch out for it leaking steam. These don't, much, but it's bad times when they do. There's a handful over on the port main too, but that's about it." Oz drummed his fingers absently on a pipe overhead, feeling the heat of the engines, heat of Yusuke next to him. A hair's breadth away, the muscles in Yusuke's arm were so over-taut they almost trembled. Oz caught his breath and gripped the pipe in an effort to dislodge the vivid sense-memory of Yusuke straining against him.

"So, uh. I get the feeling something's troubling you."

"You do, do you? Well that's just great. We'll throw you a big damn party," Yusuke snapped, and perhaps Oz had voiced his concerns a little too frequently.

"Calm down, hey?" Oz followed Yusuke out from under the engine's tangled guts and brushed some dust off his shirt. He really should clean back there more often. "I just thought it might do you good to get it off your chest."

"How touching. You really want to know? Whatever yuben de shit's been going on these past coupla months, it's outside my head, like. And I don't get anything much before that except these freaky-ass dreams, which are _really_ starting to piss me off." Yusuke's restless hands described his unusual capabilities, or perhaps just a headache inspired by a greater restlessness. They soon collected themselves into fists.

"C'mon," Oz decided.

"C'mon what?" asked Yusuke sullenly.

"Cargo bay's pretty empty right now. We can beat off some steam."

Yusuke snorted, his usual overweening confidence returning. "What, you're not afraid of me?"

Oz gave him a small smile. "No. Not afraid."

Yusuke's eyes, damn them, ran over him near sharply with passing seriousness before the cocky smirk recovered.

"Yeah, whatever. It's your face."

  
"You sure this thing ain't going to explode without you holding its hand?"

"Nah, this is a milk run," Oz replied. They squared off in the clear middle of the cargo bay. The grown crystal chips they were transporting from Hyde to Achaea were riding snug beneath the innocuous decking, safe and sound.

Yusuke hit _hard_ and he also fought dirty. Oz lurched back to regroup and possibly devise an assault on Yusuke's defence, which was pretty weak. He lurched again. There followed a pattern of clanks, the unmistakeable sounds of docking.

Oz rushed to the comm. He hit the button. "Mark?"

No answer. Shiny. Oz turned to Yusuke. "Run up to the bridge and check on things, would you?"

Yusuke's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

Oz shrugged. "I think we're being boarded. You might want to hurry."

"Screw that! How 'bout we just kick their asses?"

"Might not be unexpected. I'll take care of the lock, see if I can't hold 'em 'til you're back."

"Cause that's a great plan. Can't we blow them up or something?"

"What kind of amnesia do you _have?_ " Oz asked. "Go. Find Shizuru. Now."

And, thank the gods, Yusuke took his grumbling forward towards the bridge, leaving Oz the airlock and a rear view full of unanticipated spacecraft.

Casually, Oz flipped the airlock's force-close and set about lifting the panel from the controls next to it with an Andrews wrench.

Oz didn't look up when the hulls clanked but didn't seal. He bit more firmly on the wires between his lips and concentrated on retiming the airlock's cycling mechanism. Five more minutes and he'd have the safeties off.

He should have told Yusuke to go to the engine room. He could have done a quick bugger on the airlock and checked on Shizuru himself. Flick of a switch and he'd have Yusuke powering down the engines. Oz had shown him how to do that because it was kind of useful in case one of the five thousand things happened that made the engines go all explosive. Hell of a lot easier to turn them off than to get them working again, and Yusuke wasn't back yet. Oz was going to have to let the boarders in soon or they were going to cut through the lock and he would be in for a very unpleasant decompression. They were already in pressure suits. Very little question of their being friendlies at this point.

And safeties off. With any luck, someone would loose a leg.

Yes. Hao. And now Oz was going to run for it. He gave the pliers a last twist and slipped them into his pocket. Running now.

The airlock didn't take nearly so long as Oz had hoped to start cycling. Noise of heavy boots behind him. Different noise, not unexpected. More feet, faster now and punctuated by voices. They must've seen him; seen which way he took?

Well, they were catching him. Why were there stairs there anyway? Who'd decided the best place for the engine was below the cargo bay? Oz wondered, taking a hairpin left toward the accusing mechanical hum.

A hand closed on Oz's shoulder, the momentum behind it slamming him into the wall.

"You're a dead man," a voice promised in warm puff of air that impacted in Oz's ear like speech bubbles. "I got him!"

Oz's attempt to dislodge his attacker got his head bounced off the wall for his trouble. A large, calloused hand pinned Oz's behind his back and propelled him down the hall. Oz managed a look over his shoulder and saw his attacker was, like, a brick wall, only with wider shoulders.

"Keep moving," he told Oz. The 'scum' was implied.

Oz's mind whirred. Everyone onboard had a gun, including the boarders, except for Yusuke who apparently didn't need one. Shizuru and Kuwabara were the only ones likely to be carrying in deep space, but that could be fixed quick. All Oz had to do was stall for the cavalry, or for Shizuru to shut the engines down. Once the engines were down, things shifted in Oz's favour. No reason to panic. Oz licked a trickle of blood off his lip..

At the top of the stairs, Oz could see the rest of the boarders. There were three of them: one prone on the deck and another crouched next to the last tying off some sort of bandage. Arm not leg, then. By the look of the guy on the ground, they'd discovered Oz's other booby trap.

"Hanging in there, Smithy?"

"Just like a string of mama's peppers."

"What d'you want me to do with 'im?" asked Oz's captor, shoving him forward.

"Don't know," the other intact boarder replied. "What's your function?"

"Mechanic."

"Could be useful," a new voice observed. Shit. How many _were_ there? "Slip-ship like this takes a real careful hand."

"Well, how's about it?" the crouching man asked Oz, wiping off his bloody hands on a rag. "You wanna work for me?"

"No," Oz replied, equally flippant. he bit his tongue. _Smart move_ , commented a little voice in the back of his head that sounded disturbingly like Shizuru.

"We'll see how you feel about that when the atmosphere starts leaking out of the airlock."

 _See_ , the voice said. _Now look where you've got yourself._

 _Hey, it's not like it's an_ impossible _situation_ , Oz defended himself. The fevery eyes of the one-handed man glaring at him sparked an idea.

Off to the right, the remaining boarder was picking apart Oz's hasty short-circuit with rubber-handled tools. The refried dead man must've taken off his gloves to pull some wires, probably when the door closed on his friend's arm.

"I say space him," Oz's attacker pitched in. "We don't have the hands to watch him and the engine's still goin'."

"More trouble than he's worth," agreed the one at the controls.

"Can't trust him anyway." Oz focussed on his breathing and not Smithy's arm, which ended just above the elbow or, gods, his eyes. The eyes knew, just like they'd known years ago, in a shack behind the lines.

 _Pulse, Oz, you still have a pulse._ Oz concentrated on that, pushing away the heat and the guilt. It was easy to think about blood: Smithy's blood was red all over the floor, flooding the air with its smell. Copper-taste in his mouth from the split lip. Oz could feel it in his hands, still pinned behind his back. It hammered through the solid muscle in his chest, _in-out, in-out, in-out_.

"Ready yet, Cha?" There was an electric crack and Oz's eyes snapped open. So much for meditation.

"Made! You tryin' to get me deep-fried, sir?"

"Will it _open?_ "

"Reckon so."

"Then stop your panda-screwing and do it."

"Hey, can't we talk about this?" Oz protested as he felt himself being propelled towards the airlock. "Aren't you supposed to take me hostage?"

"You had your chance. Tie his hands."

Oz's hands were bound with something thin and plastic that dug into his skin. Mr. Wall grabbed him by the front of his shirt and unceremoniously dragged him to the airlock's inner door, which was sliding ominously open.

 _So maybe this would be a good time to panic._ Seconds away from hard vacuum and _fuck_ , where had Yusuke gone? Oz might have been the last person on the ship.

A wave of calm swept over Oz when he stepped into the airlock. Not calm; eagerness. Oz took a shaky breath.

The boarders had had to pull their ship back in order to pick the lock and only the rear hatch stood between him and the burning stars. Metal and dura-glass; practically nothing, if you thought about it.

The inner door sealed behind Oz. He leaned against it, ignoring the splash of blood just above his elbow. This did not require an audience. Much too soon, the airlock started to depressurise; he'd definitely fucked the timing.

He reached for the fire and felt it rising up. He held it in check under his skin until it was a thin rind over the core of flame. The last of the air was being sucked out into space.

Oz stopped breathing.

  
Monkey-stuffed horseradishes, this was bad. By the look of Captain Thun's face, something had gone wrong with his brilliant plan, but he still wasn't backing off and Shizuru still didn't know what was going on because the shipboard communications frequencies were still being jammed, same as the outgoing channels except for the one currently displaying Thun's pocked, overly-narrow mug. She and McHenry were alone on the bridge; heavens knew where the twins were and she'd sent Kazuma away to check on the cargo bay as soon as the internal comm system failed. What worried her most, though, was the fact that the engines were still running. McHenry had stopped _Darkness_ almost as soon as their sensors cut out; that should've tipped Oz that something was up, let alone the fuss of coupling. And, if nothing else, Kazuma was usually at least reliable for ordinary message-running. Shizuru's gaze flicked over the strange pattern of warning lights lit along the side of the control console saying perplexing things about the state of the airlock.

"I'm not giving you my ship," Shizuru told him. Thun smiled. She felt unclean.

"My girl, I don't believe you are fully comprehending of your situation. My men are on board your ship and will no doubt be in control of it before long. After that, I am afraid we will have no use for you, except in the slave markets of Pará. That is, if you happen to live that long. All I'm trying to do is avoid a great deal of unpleasantness on both our parts."

"Tough shit," Shizuru informed him flatly. "If you don't tell your people to vacate my ship, I'll have no choice but to forcibly eject them. If they're lucky, they'll be dead first."

Thun dodged out of view for a second, palpably unintimidated, and returned with a slightly predatory edge to his smile. McHenry surreptitiously nudged Shizuru's arm, drawing her attention subtly to the hatch lights, which were dancing again.

"My crew seems have beat you to it. I hope you weren't too fond of whoever was belowdecks but then again, your man should have known better than to be so obstructive. As should you."

  
Yusuke backed away from the door and pressed himself against the wall, a queasy, sinking feeling burrowed deep into his stomach very similar to the one Shizuru was doing her best to ignore. Well, it didn't look like Shizuru and McHenry were in a position to be mighty helpful. Oz was—that left Kuwabara and the Weasleys. If this goon had thugs on board, Kuwabara would be marginally less useless. Not that there was any telling where any of them were, gorrammit. Yusuke growled and started back to the kitchen.

  
Something wet and wriggly insinuated itself into Fred's ear, disrupting his concentration and making the careful lines of code explode from their tightly constrained scrolling and fly randomly across the plastic flimsy he'd been scratching on.

"That really tastes awful, you know," George complained. "All ear wax-y. You ought to clean those lugs of yours more often."

"I hope you get your nostrils raped by an elephant. I've been working on this for three hours, zhu!"

"Gah, you're no fun. We're still three days out and the job code's all writ. You've an overabundance of time to fiddle with that junk." This last breathed into Fred's damp ear.

Fred made an annoyed sound and twisted away so he could aim a particularly vicious glare at his brother. He was met with such a total lack of repentance it verged on pouting.

Damn. And it really was going to take hours to get it all back, plus now that he mentioned it, Fred could feel the uncomfortable tightness in his shoulders that meant he was one step away from becoming the human pretzel and cracking like a bullroarer whenever he moved for the next day. Not to mention George was looking particularly gorgeous. One bare, freckled foot poked over the edge of their bunk dangerously near Fred's elbow as he posed, eyes sparkling with mischief underneath the comically long face he was pulling. Fred tried to be annoyed with the way George made the same face look seven times more pathetic than he ever managed to, thus securing for himself an unfair advantage and victory in every argument they ever had. Well, except for that one about the hyperphosphorylated blue bubbles. That had been fun. Instead, he was just tempted.

Fred eyed his brother consideringly. He set his light pen down on top of the abused flimsy. Then, not taking his eyes off George's, he deliberately drew one finger up the centre line of the protruding foot, from heel to ball.

"Greeak!" George exclaimed, convulsing. He lunged at Fred and attacked his sides with vengeful determination. Amid the various giggles and cries of _ack, awrk_ and _I'm going to_ kill _you, wanker!_ Fred managed to pull George's tee-shirt halfway off, trapping his arms. Fred sat back a minute, watching his brother thrash on the unmade bed.

"Hey! C'mon, that's not funny," George protested, twisting from side to side. "Where'd you go?"

"Here, stupid."

Fred nipped playfully at his collarbone and smoothed his hands reassuringly down his brother's sides. George tensed warily, the relaxed into the touch. Fred continued kissing his way up to George's neck where it disappeared into the inside-out neck of his tee-shirt. A pleading sound emerged from the fabric.

"Well I don't know, I rather fancy fucking you this way," Fred said, fingering the material absently. "Can't bite all over me neck like you do like that, now can you?"

"You know you like it." George tried futilely to grind up into him.

"Mm," Fred agreed and tugged the shirt away to reveal a flushed and nicely mussed-looking George, who leered brightly up at him.

He might do something useful, Fred thought, like help him with his buttons or, o gods, he gasped when George rubbed him more firmly, his trouser buttons. Gorram tease.

"'m not," George protested.

"Are too. Nngh. Vicious flirt."

"Who was the one grabbed Mingo's arse last time?"

"Shut up." Fred wriggled down onto George's lap in retaliation. He felt George's erection hard and hot beneath him. "We all knew how that was going to turn out anyway."

"Mnnuh," George agreed. His hands wandered up to tease around the waistband of Fred's trousers, then up underneath his shirt. "Why'd you have to go and wear something with so many buttons?" His fingers were already picking at them. He finished the last one and ran his hands up over Fred's chest.

Fred shrugged out of it and pressed George backwards onto the bed. Grabbing George's wrists, he stroked them with his thumbs, bending to take one of George's nipples in his mouth.

George moaned and arched into it, so Fred swirled his tongue around and sucked harder before he released it, moving lower over George's stomach. He licked wet swathes across the freckles there and watched it disturb George's breathing when he exhaled over them.

When he reached the area between George's bellybutton and the top of his trousers, Fred released his hands and set to work on George's fly. He nipped and teased the skin there, flirting around the point of being ticklish while he slid George's trousers and boxers down over his hips.

His cock brushed Fred's cheek; Fred turned his head to kiss it. He was already rolling George's balls in his left hand. George made some sort of sound and tangled his fingers in Fred's hair, pointedly holding his head in place.

Fred kissed it again, darting his tongue out a little to taste. He pressed a wavering line of kisses up to the head and licked it like a popsicle. George's fingers tightened in his hair. Fred continued to lick his cock until he'd covered every inch of it at least twice. He nuzzled it affectionately, then opened his mouth and took it in.

Fred's free hand went to George's hip; his other was still stroking George's balls and the sensitive skin behind them. He swirled his tongue, relishing the taste of the hot flesh. Each time, he took a little bit more into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He swallowed then, and was rewarded by a high-pitched whine. George's hips thrust reflexively, driving his cock further down Fred's throat. Fred hummed encouragingly and slid a finger into his mouth next to George's cock, wetting it.

George was setting the pace now, his thrusts erratic. He mumbled something that sounded like _FredFredFred, oh fuckIloveyou, Fred_ , his fingers pulling sharply on Fred's hair.

Fred wriggled his hand back down between them and circled George's hole. He hung on for dear life, his own breath coming fast and hard, so hard; he was rubbing against George's leg, the other one hooked over his shoulder, letting George fuck his face. He slipped the finger up, into George, swallowing a thrust, and George came shouting.

  
Something was wrong, something was very wrong. Kuwabara was supposed to be checking on the cargo bay, but he'd figured if he was going down there anyway he might as well work out for a while, so he'd stopped in his room to change. Like he wanted to monitor the dumb boards.

But something was definitely more wrong than a few crates got loose and rattling around the cargo bay. He'd almost run into some guy heading upship, and man, he'd looked like he meant business. Recovering from his first shock, Kuwabara was sprinting after him when a hand caught him from behind.

Kuwabara turned around swinging only to meet a punch in the gut.

"Calm down already! It's just me!"

"Oh." Kuwabara lowered his fists. "Hey! There's this guy just went past. C'mon, we gotta cath 'im!"

"Whoa, hold on a second." Yusuke grabbed his arm again. "We have bigger problems. Shizuru can take care of herself. But this guy's not alone. They got Oz; now we're going to get them."

That brought him down. Kuwabara nodded to the seriousness in Yusuke's eyes.

"What's the plan?"

"We search the ship until we find them, and then we take care of them. I was going to start with the engine room. That much of strategy, I've learned," Yusuke said grimly.

"Alright then, let's go."

Kuwabara stalked purposefully forward. He glanced wistfully at the stairs up to the bridge, but Yusuke was right, even though he was an arrogant jerk: Shizuru was way capable of kicking that guy's ass. Even if he was, like, four times her size and looked like he ate iron tacks for breakfast. Aw, man...

  
"Yum." Fred licked his lips overdramatically.

George kicked him half-heartedly in the lumbar region.

"Fuck you," Fred griped.

"That's next."

"Smug hun dan," Fred muttered, and spread George's thighs, moving his mouth lower. "Find the lube, will you?"

Fred licked George's balls, feeling George's hyper-sensitised body quiver. George's interest in their bedside drawer flagged for a second, but he grit his teeth and retrieved the lube from among the miscellaneous detritus.

George let out something between a moan and a sigh when Fred's tongue reached his hole. "Cor, why don't I give you a massage while I'm at it?"

"I'm jelly. _Jelly_ ; then I'd be soup." He didn't seem at all disturbed by the prospect. Fred snorted and continued.

He circled the ring of muscles a few times before pushing in. George's hands twitched, open-closed, on the sheets, making soft sound of pleasure that went straight to Fred's already throbbing cock.

Slowly, he pulled away. He removed the rest of their clothes before opening the lube and smearing it on his fingers. George was more than happy to kiss Fred, scratching his slightly less-nibbled nails down Fred's back and lightly down his sides, pushing down onto Fred's fingers in his arse.

"Fuck me," George said, startling Fred with a slick hand on his cock. "God, fuck me."

"Accept no substitutes," Fred agreed.

George nipped at his neck right below his jaw. Fred made a strangled sound and pulled his fingers out. One smooth stroke and he was in, balls-deep in tight heat. George's legs wrapped around his waist, rocking up to meet him impatiently.

Fred kissed him again, pulling back a bit to thrust in again. It felt so good, George's tongue in his mouth, George surrounding him, holding him, moving with him.

"I love you. I need you," he panted incoherently, his thrusts speeding up, everything blurring together. "George."

"Fred," George replied hoarsely. His lips were like electricity on Fred's skin. He breathed a broken sound and came again. His muscles clamped down on Fred's cock, pulling him along with a strangled whimper that might have been George's name.

  
Yusuke stopped in front of a door. "I'll keep an eye out; you check and see if Fred and George are in there. I think there's a jamming signal coming from the other ship; maybe they can do something."

Kuwabara knocked. No answer. The door was unlocked, though, so he pushed it open.

"Waaugh!" Kuwabara shrieked and jumped back into the corridor.

"Quiet!" Yusuke hissed at him. "Someone might hear you, moron!"

"Ulgnk," replied Kuwabara. "They were—they were—"

Yusuke grit his teeth. "We don't have _time_ for this. You two get your motherfucking asses out here. The ship's been boarded and Oz is out."

A tousled Weasley poked his head around the door-frame.

"Be right with you, chum."

Yusuke was scowling when Fred and George finally emerged.

"What's all this about, then?" one of them asked.

"Boarders." Yusuke cut Kuwabara off. "They're jamming us but good. I know we saw one headed up to Shizuru and McHenry on the bridge. Last I saw, Oz was in the cargo bay trying to slow them down. He's out for the duration." Kuwabara shot him a curious look but Yusuke ignored it. It had been hard enough to say the words the first time, and he didn't need to be thinking about that right now; it'd make him stupid. "He sent me up before I could tell how many of them there were."

"Right, right, get us to the shuttle. Its systems are autonomous and we've done some wonking on them. Criminal activities and all. We should be able to do something from there." The twin tapped his nose and exchanged a significant look with the other one.

"Well, let's _go_ already!" Kuwabara urged.

Yusuke was really starting to hate whatever madman had laid this ship out. He poked his head around a corner. All clear. Good. If they could just get through this hall and the next, they'd be home free. Gesturing for his little trail of ducklings to follow, Yusuke rounded the elbow onto the catwalk. He was nearly bowled over by a man moving determinedly in the opposite direction. By process of elimination, the enemy. Yusuke could feel when the other guy figured it out about the same time he did. Muscles tensed. He grabbed…a hair too slow. The boarder caught one of Yusuke's arms in an iron grip. Yusuke socked him.

"Kuwabara!" he hollered. At least he had his arm back now.

The boarder swung and missed, but he was doing a halfway decent job of blocking Yusuke's blows. _Damn space anyway_. The space between the wall and the catwalk's railing was too narrow for the twins to go around them. Or for Kuwabara to mix in.

An attempt at a KO got him deflected for his trouble. Great. No way over him, no way under him, no way around him. _Gotta go though him, then. No more mister nice guy._

Kuwabara was still stuck behind the twins. He wasn't doing anyone any good there, gorrammit. Yusuke drove the boarder back. _Is he retreating down the other steps?_ Retreating somewhere, too fast. Yusuke backed off, wary, before he got himself tripped down a flight of stairs.

That was a mistake. Yusuke found himself staring down a gun barrel, round like the stupid-ass look of surprise that must have been plastered all over his own idiot face.

The boarder squinted, like he hadn't got a good look at Yusuke before but he thought he recognised him now.

"You'd be the one, then," he said cryptically. "'Kay. Here's the deal: I don't shoot you right here and now and in exchange, you give me the book, no tricks, all nice and friendly-like."

"Go piss up a rope," Yusuke snarled back.

The boarder had been advancing slowly, a trick Yusuke had not failed to notice. Still, he wasn't quite prepared when he whipped out a leg and kicked him in the stomach.

Yusuke fell, curled around the vacuum in the region of his stomach. One of the Weasleys, now in the gun sights, swallowed audibly.

"Anybody moves, I start shooting people."

There was, of course, silence, although the great, racing mass of thought almost made an audible buzz in the air.

"Not to be moving or anything," it was of course either Fred or George who broke the moment—Yusuke really needed to learn to tell them apart; no one else seemed to have trouble with it. Or maybe the trick was just not to care, "but we're not going to stand here all day, are we?"

"That depends. Any of you folk know where he put the book?" Yusuke was nudged none-too-gently with a boot. _Yeah, yeah, I get the picture._

"Er...no?" There was evidently general agreement. "Nope," the Weasley said brightly. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Well then," replied the boarder, "I guess we'll all just stand around here until he decides to cooperate. Or I get bored and start shooting people. I will shoot them if I have to," he added for Yusuke's benefit. "Hell, I'll shoot you too. But it'd make my life considerable easier if'n you'd help me out."

Yusuke had by that time more than recovered his ability to breathe, but what the hell was he supposed to do now? The boarder had every intention of shooting them all dead; the only reason he hadn't yet was he didn't know what Yusuke would do. Derevko didn't like witnesses and who else could have sent someone after the book?

Time for the other thing? No, the fucking catwalk was so narrow it'd be almost impossible to miss hitting something if the gun went off anyway.

"Monkey-assed space whores," Yusuke grumbled at the grating. "Alright," he said more loudly. "I'll do it. I have to show you, though, so I'm gonna stand up now. Don't flip out."

Slowly, Yusuke got to his feet, hands out in front of him, placating-like. The gun recentred its aim on Yusuke.

"Alright. So show it to me."

"How's about I show you this?" Yusuke brought his hands together and pointed his finger, desperately hoping Derevko hadn't told her goons everything.

The boarder sneered. Then he snickered.

Maybe this would work after all. Yusuke advanced on him, hand held steadily on a level with the boarder's gun. The boarder didn't think to stop him until after his finger was already plugging the gun barrel. He was starting to look a little panicky. Thinking about his chances of taking them all down unarmed, eh? Well, Yusuke wasn't about to let the guy blow off his finger.

He fired first.

It got easier every time. The other thing, not the killing. Well, the killing too, but this. Not that much easier; it was still like if he'd tried to lift that rented aircar out of the mud with his bare hands, like the sudden shoop when it finally came free. Yusuke hadn't quite worked out how he felt about the thing yet. If he was gonna stop using it, he'd have to start carrying a gun or a knife at least. Probably should anyway.

Kuwabara, the useless git, was looking wild around the eyes, and so were the twins. Yusuke shook himself out of it before the exhaustion had a chance to set in.

"C'mon. We're almost there."

Yusuke and Kuwabara delivered Fred and George to the shuttle with out further trouble. They stayed long enough to receive the twins' reassurances that they could unravel whatever the bad guys were using to scramble _Darkness_ , then left.

  
A heavy tread on the deck behind her caused Shizuru to turn around. She really didn't know how he fit his shoulders through _Darkness_ ' doorways; he had to at least be ducking his head.

"Ah, Kebron. Your timing is perfect. Captain Kuwabara is being a bit recalcitrant. Captain, kindly give your gun to Mr. Kebron."

Shizuru stared at him. Slowly, she unholstered the gun at her hip, letting it dangle from her hand. _One shot_.

"Go to _hell_ ," she spat at him, making a fist around the grip and socking Kebron hard.

He staggered back a step. Shizuru reversed her grip and took aim, but Kebron knocked her hands away. With little effort, he pushed McHenry back into his chair, his other hand wrapped around Shizuru's right arm, keeping the gun pointed away. She struggled, he smashed her arm down over the back of a chair, and Shizuru felt something snap. Kebron disarmed her, quickly and adroitly, while she was still gasping for air around the pain. McHenry looked angry, she noted; that was unusual. Not that any of this was normal by a long shot.

Shizuru managed to regain her breath. She straightened and turned her back on Kebron so she could look Thun in the eye.

"I'm still not giving you my ship."

  
"Where're we going?" Kuwabara asked, going down the first flight of stairs.

"Back to the original plan: engine room first," Yusuke replied.

"But—"

"We don't have engines, the bridge does no good." Hopefully, Kuwabara wouldn't jump on the fact that the reverse was equally true. "Damn thing takes forever to restart anyway, and I got a feeling we don't have that long."

"Couldn't we have just gone down the auxiliary lines?" he griped at the bottom of about the third flight of stairs. The vertical auxiliary thruster controls occupied two four-meter strips midway back the ship, right on the hull, top to bottom, port and starboard. Their purpose was to stabilise the ship and increase maneouvring capabilities. They required manual adjustment, another reason why slip-ships weren't popular, though one didn't have to scramble up and down ladders to operate them: the artificial gravity along the auxiliaries was set perpendicular to the rest of the ship's so that you found yourself walking with your feet to space and head in towards the core of the ship. It was also accessible via hatches on every level.

"Wimping out, are you?" Kuwabara snickered. "It echoes like a panda-fucking gong in there. Whoever you think's in the engine room could hear us coming a mile off."

"Great."

Down, down, down they went. Who the hell needed this many stairs on a space ship? Hadn't they ever heard of elevators? And they were after the book, that meant Derevko. Derevko didn't do witnesses; even if they beat off the boarders, could _Darkness_ get away before the boarders' shipmates blew them out of space? Fuck fuck _fuck_. Yusuke's feet slapped down the metal mesh steps in time with this internal mantra.

  
"We've been through this before; I'm getting bored. Tell me where the book is, at least—"

"Why is it that you all want some mouldy book so badly?" George's voice broke in over the comm.

"Dunno. I was going to ask that rather unpleasant man who was threatening us, but then Yusuke went and killed him," Fred replied. "Ey. You all go deaf down there?"

"Fred."

"Yes, o most radiant star of my night?"

"Leave me out of your nights, Fred. Is everyone alright?"

"Yusuke said they had Oz—"

"Oz is dead. Spaced. Can you give me navigational sensors?"

"In a tick," Fred replied. His cheerfulness sounded thin.

Shizuru smiled in what she hoped was an unsettling manner into the vid-pickup. Things were looking up, but they were still down a barrel without a bucket. Thun was at least looking nicely red, of only for being ignored. _Small victories_. "You were saying?"

  
The ship rocked. Yusuke and Kuwabara exchanged alarmed looks and sped up. The ship continued to shake at irregular intervals.

"Are they shooting at us?" Yusuke asked.

"I…don't think so?" Kuwabara frowned, looking confused.

Yusuke swore. Monkey-fucking wonderful. They reached he bottom of the last flight and swung around the last switch-back. Yusuke flung out an arm to try and stop Kuwabara, but the ship shuddered again and pitched them both forward. His shoulder slammed the door-control. There was just enough time to see that there was only one visible boarder before they tripped inside and fell in a heap, giving her more than enough time to draw her gun and point it at them.

"Screw that!" Yusuke heaved Kuwabara upwards in her direction and dodged to the side, taking her out with a solid left.

  
 _Heart of Darkness_ shuddered in the middle of Shizuru's sentence. "What was that for?" she snapped.

" _I_ didn't do it!" Thun protested. The viewer fuzzed and cleared. " _What_ is—" he demanded of someone off-screen, then stopped dead. All the colour drained from his face and his bulging eyes fixed on something above the vid pick-up. "Merciful daughters of saints and emus."

"Amen," Fred agreed.

"Captain Thun," Shizuru began impatiently, ignoring Fred.

"Um, Shizuru." McHenry tugged the sleeve of her unbroken arm.

"What?" Shizuru snapped. Silence. She followed McHenry's gaze out their own front window. Well. All right then.

There was fire unfurling off their port bow. It was brilliant, like a bonfire in the night. It was shaped, almost shaped like a—it _did_ have a shape. Right before Shizuru's eyes, it flexed its grand, glowing orange muscles and beat its wings, making the bright yellow-blue-white plumage on them flare. As it twisted to face the other ship, its tail brushed _Darkness_ , sending another tremor through her hull. Shizuru caught a glimpse of its eye, rayed with gold and whirling, and felt something quiver in the pit of her stomach.

"Do you—" Shizuru and McHenry began at the same time. Shizuru, who had been on the verge of asking the most obvious question of her life, gestured for McHenry to go on, but he ignored her, his face erupting in a grin as brilliant as the fiery apparition outside.

"Sir," McHenry chirruped brightly, "I suggest you turn off your jammers, back away, and order your men over here to surrender. We'll return them to you in short order. You see," McHenry leaned back, the grin turning evil, "we are not entirely defenceless."

Shizuru clamped her jaw shut before anything stupid came out. She glanced between Thun on the viewer and McHenry in his pilot's chair and Kebron looking for all the world like a mountain that had just had the moon fall on its head.

The gigantic firebird beat its wings again and circled Thun's ship, jolting it but good if the vidlink was any indicator.

"Kebron, give her back her gun." Thun's voice was a little shriller than it had been five minutes ago, but no less certain.

Kebron hesitated, glanced once more out the viewport, and complied. Shizuru took the gun in her left hand.

"O lionheart, you should have sensors on normal channels again," George sang over the comm. "Confirm?"

"Confirmed." McHenry replied absently. Thun's ship was backing away. McHenry's fingers were a flurry on their—running lights. The firebird turned towards them and dipped its head before winging majestically over them and out of sight.

"Take the helm," McHenry told her, and bolted.

Shizuru dropped into his vacated chair and glared over at Kebron. "You know the way out: go. Suit up before I decide to blow you out the airlock the easy way, dong ma?"

  
"Engine room, who's down there?" one of the twin's voices crackled over the intercomm.

"This is Yusuke," Yusuke replied, punching the button. "Situation under control; Kuwabara's tying up the one we found down here; don't seem to be any more."

"That's all of them, except for the big guy. He's up on the bridge with Shizuru and McHenry. Better get up there quic— _holy_ mother of ice-planet—"

"Weasley?" Yusuke shouted. Bloody hell. "Kuwabara, keep an eye on things here."

Kuwabara sighed. "Yeah, fine. Just when I thought I'd escaped this shit."

  
McHenry took stock of the mess that was the cargo bay and swore. He grabbed someone's rubber-insulated gloves and a pair of pliers. Biting his lip, he switched a few wires and twigged the switch.

The outer doors opened. McHenry held his breath. He waited what seemed like an eternity before finally, _finally_ , fire poured into the airlock, drawn compactly around spinning discs of gold. McHenry nodded understanding, closed the outer doors, and repressurised the airlock. He was so absorbed in watching that he didn't even notice being hit over the head until he regained consciousness, much later.

  
The inferno swirled, calmed and coalesced. Kebron almost dropped Cha, whom he'd collected from the punks in engineering. Instead, he set her down gently, walked up behind the pilot—McHenry—and efficiently rendered him unconscious.

The airlock hatch cycled open and before Kebron could react there was that thrice bedamned engineer they'd spaced, grabbing his arm with a hand so hot it'd leave blisters. The eyes—his eyes—if Kebron had been harbouring any doubts—were the eyes of the firebird.

"I'd say your welcome's worn a little thin," the engineer said. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Kebron gave him a flat look. He suited up the others, living and dead, tethered them all together, and they left; and he waited.

  
"Shizuru? You up there?" Oz asked into the comm.

" _Oz?_ " she sounded justifiably surprised, if she'd heard about the shoved-out-the-airlock thing.

"They're away; we're clear. McHenry's a little unconscious, though."

"Good to have you back, though an explanation would be nice." Uh-oh.

"Let me find some trousers first?"

There was a long and direful silence.

"Why," Shizuru said slowly, "do you all end up on _my_ ship?" She sighed. "It's all right. You can handle the engines? Kuwabara's on them now."

"Sure thing. Don't wait on me."

"Wasn't planning to."

  
Shizuru turned to Yusuke, who looked about three seconds away from dashing down to the cargo bay just like McHenry had. "Sit. Do what I tell you to."

"But—"

She whapped Yusuke's head with her good hand. "Broken arm, doofus, remember?"

"So why not get Oz to do it? Or one of the three other conscious people on this ship?" He protested angrily.

Shizuru growled and pushed him down into the pilot's seat.

"Oz always pulls in too close to the gravity point. We used to have a first-rate second engine man, but without anyone better than Kazuma alone in the pit that's too risky. The way we're doing this, the twins'll have their hands full plotting the course. I'm giving you the opportunity to fly a spaceship, so shut up."

For once, Yusuke did.


End file.
